Daisychain Summer

by Elizabeth Elgin

  ‘And you will not divorce my sister. Rather, it is she who will divorce you. She has grounds, I would say – her husband’s adultery. So watch your step, Sutton. I dislike you intensely. You are a suddenly-rich peasant as far as I am concerned, who has yet to learn to conduct himself as a gentleman.’

  He walked slowly, provocatively to the door, smiling softly as though he wanted his sister’s husband to be the one to strike the first blow. In the doorway, he paused.

  ‘I shall be staying here at Denniston House, with or without your invitation. There are things to be discussed – Natasha Yurovska, for one. She too will return to London.’

  ‘The servant? What is she to you?’ Elliot sneered, all at once brave with the distance of the room between them.

  ‘She is nothing to me, save that we brought her with us into exile and, like my sister, I consider her to be my responsibility. She is not my mistress – so be warned. You have me to deal with now, and I am not a defenceless woman!’

  The door closed quietly. Elliot Sutton reached for the silver box on the desktop, taking out a cigarette, lighting it with shaking fingers, inhaling deeply.

  So they knew about Natasha, but if they tried to use it against him, then it would be his word against hers that he’d ever slept with her. Oh, Anna knew he’d been to the servant’s bedroom but there were ways to keep her silent. Tatiana, for one. And as for Natasha Yurovska – who would take the word of an inarticulate servant against that of a gentleman?

  He slammed a clenched fist hard down on the desktop. Damn them all! Damn his mother for insisting he marry the mawkish Anna and damn Anna for being a mare who couldn’t breed!

  No one understood him; no one at all. The Garth Suttons despised him; even his own father disliked him. Be damned, then, if he wouldn’t go to someone who appreciated him; someone to whom he could pour out his misery and receive sympathy in return. And all for half a sovereign! There were whores in Leeds who would listen all night for half that amount!

  Savagely he tugged on the bell-pull.

  ‘Have my car brought round to the front door,’ he ordered the footman who answered the summons. ‘And I shall not, after all, be dining at home.’

  To hell with the lot of them! He was off in search of comfort and understanding. And who could blame a man for that when his entire family conspired to keep him from his wife’s bed?

  He paused to fill his cigarette case, then, smiling, made for the back stairs.

  19

  For all it was nearly June, Reuben Pickering’s kitchen fire burned brightly. It was his only means of cooking and the elderly felt the cold, Alice supposed, even in summer.

  ‘Tell me,’ she smiled as she set the kettle to boil, ‘just how old you really are.’

  ‘Seventy-nine, next, though keep it to yourself. I’ve been swearing to seventy, since Armistice day,’ he winked.

  ‘Then tell me, whilst we’re on the subject, how old do you reckon Morgan is?’

  ‘Ar – let’s see. He’m no more than fourteen. Was only a pup, when young Giles found him. Did I ever tell you how we got him?’

  Alice shook her head, though Reuben had told her often.

  ‘’Twas not so long after you came to Rowangarth – from your Aunt Bella’s, I brought you. You’ll remember Bella?’

  Alice did; remembered her grudging acceptance of her orphaned niece. Twelve loveless years there had been, but mostly she remembered being hungry.

  Then Reuben had taken her to work at Rowangarth and to happiness, because three years later, when she was walking Morgan in Brattocks Wood, she met Tom.

  ‘Aunt Bella – yes. But tell me about Morgan?’

  ‘Well, one day Giles brought this spaniel to Keeper’s. In a bad way, it was. He’d found it at the side of the road, hurt bad. He wrapped it in his jacket, brought it to me. The poor thing had been abandoned; been beaten, an’ all.

  ‘Poor little beggar’d be better out of its misery, I told him, but he’d have none of it. Sent for the vet, then between us we got the creature on its feet again. The veterinary was called Morgan, if I remember rightly. Reckon that’s how the daft animal got its name.’

  ‘Giles couldn’t bear suffering – not ever. That’s why he died, helping other people. And Reuben – Daisy knows about Giles and me …’

  ‘Best she’s been told,’ he nodded comfortably. ‘How did she take it?’

  ‘Badly, at first, though now she likes having a brother. She’s playing with the Sutton brood, at Rowangarth. She and Drew are coming to see you, later. She’s got a present for you; wants to give it to you herself. Knitted you a kettle-holder, so mind you admire it!’

  ‘I’ve made sure,’ Reuben chuckled, ‘there are sweeties in the tin. Drew visits with her ladyship and always has his sweeties. Her’s proud of that boy, Alice. Alus has him with her when she visits Rowangarth pensioners. There’s a silver lining to every black cloud, and that little lad’s a silver lining if ever I saw one.

  ‘But playing at Rowangarth? Young Catchpole won’t like ’em running wild over his gardens. Five of them, eh; five young Suttons growing up. Sad about that little lad at Denniston. You could even feel sorry for Mrs Clementina; she was real cut up about losing that grandson, talk had it. But in a strange way it’s Fate, I suppose.’

  ‘Karma, I believe it’s called. As you sow, so shall you reap …’

  ‘Ah, well, I alus said as that one’s sins would find him out, and I’m right. They’re catching up with him, mark my words. Terrible trouble at Denniston, I’ve heard. A right old set-to between Elliot and Countess Anna’s brother. Came to blows, I heard, though I saw Elliot not long after and his face looked all right to me. Not like when your Tom walloped him,’ he chuckled.

  ‘I don’t know anything about that.’ Alice filled the teapot from the boiling kettle. ‘But I heard – and you’re not to repeat this to a soul, Reuben – that Anna Sutton is going to London to her mother’s house before so very much longer. Seems she’s got to get her strength back. Julia said Nathan is taking her to the churchyard, now that she’s on her feet again, to see the little one’s grave. And I heard,’ – Mary had had it from Will Stubbs and sworn it was gospel truth – ‘that Elliot Sutton isn’t best pleased since he hasn’t been invited to London.’

  ‘Serve him right. He’s a bad ’un and he’ll come to a bad end. That wife of his is a lady; not like him. But breeding outs, Alice, and the Russian lass is twice too good for that one. But forget him. You’m home, girl, and there’s better things to talk about. What’s news, from Rowangarth?’

  ‘We-e-ll …’ Alice spooned sugar into Reuben’s mug. ‘Lady Helen has bought Julia a motor. I’ll bet it took a bit of doing, after the way Sir John was killed.’

  ‘Killed himself, more like,’ Reuben brooded, ‘trying to speed at sixty miles an hour. ’T’isn’t natural, going that fast. He could’ve burst his ear drums.’

  ‘He did worse than that. Poor Lady Helen. Just before dinner, they came to tell her. Mary waiting to serve and Cook getting bad-tempered, keeping things hot. Not long after I’d gone to work at Rowangarth.’ She clutched her mug, staring into the fire, remembering. Then she smiled.

  ‘And Lady Helen’s had a good offer for the tea garden and is going to sell, but you’ll know about that; it’s no secret. But it’s as if she’s putting her affairs in order, Reuben. I hope she hasn’t had a premonition.’

  ‘Not her! Her ladyship’s good for a score more years, yet. Do you ever wish you could turn the clock back, lass – do things differently?’

  ‘No, Reuben. I wouldn’t change anything. Mind, it was a tragedy at the time; I was half out of my mind with worry when I fell for Drew. But it was all meant to be. I wish you’d come to Windrush, though; live with Tom and me.’

  ‘Nay, lass. The young and the old don’t mix. Just keep writing me letters and come home to Rowangarth whenever you can, and I’ll be content.’

  Home to Rowangarth, Alice brooded. But home, didn’t they say, was where the h
eart was and her heart, all of it, was Tom’s. Home was at Windrush, now.

  Anna Sutton shivered in spite of the warmth of the day. Clutching her wrap around her she sank into a chair, staring through the windows into the moist greenness of the conservatory, thinking about the tiny grave. He was real to her now, the son she had never seen. He was Nicholas, the son she had caused to be born before his time, and she had vowed, as she laid white flowers over him, that she would make retribution. When she was well enough, she would return to Denniston House and Elliot’s bed. It would be loathsome, but it would be her penance and she would submit to what was expected of any wife. But only when she had found the courage to submit to it. Staring at the bare earth, her hand in Julia’s, she made her decision. She had thought to refuse to go back to London with her mother, ignore the doctor’s advice; remain with Elliot and let happen what may. Yet the sight of the little mound of earth had stirred such feelings inside her that the need to make her husband suffer as she had suffered could no longer be denied.

  ‘Will you look after the grave, Julia?’ she asked softly, sadly. ‘I would like someone to come and see him whilst I am away.’

  ‘You’re going, then? You’ve made up your mind?’

  ‘I shall stay at Cheyne Walk for as long as I think necessary.’ She tilted her chin defiantly. ‘Alone.’

  ‘You won’t regret it,’ Nathan smiled. ‘The summer is ahead of us – getting well again is all that matters. Julia and I will bring flowers.’

  ‘And you’ll pray for Nicholas?’

  ‘I will.’ Nathan had taken the frail, cold hand in his own. ‘And for you, too, Anna …’

  ‘So she’s going?’ Elliot Sutton spat. ‘That mother and brother of hers – they’ve put her up to it. Well, I’ll be glad to see the back of the bitch!’

  ‘Elliot! Do not talk like that! An ailing wife is no use to you. She’ll miscarry the next baby as well, and then where will you be?’ Clementina sighed.

  ‘I’ll get rid of her! There’s got to be grounds for divorce. Surely Carvers can find a way?’

  ‘The Carvers do not accept divorce petitions. Old Carver wouldn’t entertain one. They’ve been solicitors to both Sutton houses for a long time and I can assure you that –’

  ‘An annulment, then? An annulment would be respectable.’

  ‘It wouldn’t. It can’t be. Anna hasn’t give you grounds for one.’ Clementina waved a dismissive hand.

  ‘She’s clearing off – leaving the marital home. Isn’t that grounds enough?’

  ‘Leaving your bed – isn’t that what you mean? Oh, there are times when you disgust me, Elliot. You’re like a lusty young tup; you all but paw the ground when there’s a female in sight!’

  ‘Mother! You can be so crude …’

  ‘No. Just plain-speaking, and what’s more, you’ll listen to what I have to say! Oh, I know about that Natasha. You’ve been in her bed, haven’t you? There’s not much I don’t get to hear about, in the end. She’s going back to London, too. Shouldn’t wonder if the countess doesn’t know about what you’ve been up to an’ all – is taking her out of harm’s way. Is no woman safe from you? I don’t know where you get it from!’

  ‘Well, it can’t be from the angelic Suttons so it’s got to be from Mary Anne!’

  ‘Aye, and maybe it’s because you’ve been spoiled, denied nothing. Well, I’m done with it. You’ll say goodbye to Anna in a civilized manner and you’ll wish her well – tell her you’ll miss her.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll do that, all right. I’m a good actor. But it’s her last chance. I let you push me into marrying her; you were determined to have her! Breeding, you said; just what the Place Suttons needed. Aristocracy, you insisted. God, mother! If you wed me to half the daughters in Debrett’s it wouldn’t change what we are! Tradesmen, that’s what; foundry owners!’

  Clementina’s face blanched, her eyes narrowed into slits. She drew in a breath and held it till she was near to exploding.

  ‘Get out!’ she gasped. ‘Get out of my sight before I take my hand to you! Out …’

  ‘Tcha!’ He shrugged, then turned on his heel. At the slamming shut of the door, Clementina threw herself on the sofa, pummelling its softness with wild, angry fists.

  ‘God help me,’ she wailed. ‘What am I to do with him?’

  She wished she had the courage to take a whip to him; lash him and thrash him until her anger was spent and her body drained of all feeling. Why was life so cruel to her?

  ‘It would seem,’ said Countess Petrovska to her son, ‘that those Bolsheviks have found the Czar’s treasure.’ She folded the newspaper and dropped it to the floor beside her.

  ‘Oh?’ He laid down his knife and fork. ‘As far as most think, the Czar moved his capital into European banks when the war started. It’s highly unlikely that –’

  ‘I’m not talking about gold nor share certificates. It’s the Romanov jewels. The paper says they’ve been found. Those Bolshevik pigs will be happy, now. I’d heard the Czar had hidden them well, but it seems not well enough! The article in the paper said the Czar had sent trainloads of his personal things to Siberia and they’ve been discovered by the Reds. Imagine, Igor? Those exquisite pieces in Bolshevik hands. Pearls before swine. It doesn’t bear thinking about!

  ‘No.’ He had problems enough without fretting over something he was powerless to do anything about – his sister’s husband, for one. Today, soon, they were leaving for London, though he wasn’t at all sure that Elliot Sutton would accept Anna’s departure without protest; wouldn’t make a last-minute appeal to her not to leave him. And his sister might well be swayed; might still have some semblance of feeling for him. Or the man might use Tatiana as a pawn; insist the child stay behind, at Denniston House.

  ‘They’ll sell them, you know! They were desperate for money, those Bolsheviks, but now they will auction those precious things abroad and buy tractors and machinery and guns. We shall never be rid of them, now. I shall never see Russia again. You, perhaps, and Anna, but they will lay me in foreign soil. Ah, but it doesn’t bear thinking about,’ the countess moaned.

  ‘Then don’t think about it! Think of Anna and what is to become of her!’

  ‘But we know what is to happen. Anna is returning to my house, to be cared for – to get well.’

  ‘And after that? She will return to her husband like a mare to the stallion.’

  ‘Igor! Watch what you say to your mother! You are not with your drinking friends, now! Your sister knows her duty, though the sooner she produces a son the sooner she can slam her bedroom door in that man’s face!’

  ‘But that hasn’t happened yet, nor will it for some time. Have you finished eating, mother? Isn’t it time to see to your cases, get ready for the journey?’

  ‘There are servants to do that. Does your mother’s company so upset you that you are sending her out of the room?’ she bristled, bright-cheeked.

  ‘No – but when Elliot Sutton comes in, can you leave us alone together? There are things I must say to him and I’d rather we were alone.’

  ‘Very well.’ She spooned apricot conserve onto her plate. ‘And might an old woman ask what the so-private business is about?’

  ‘You may not, though when we have Anna safely in London, I will tell you.’

  ‘Is it something serious – important?’

  ‘Important? Not really – but serious, yes; serious for Sutton, that is. You will leave us, mother?’

  ‘If I must.’ She bit into her toast. ‘I shall expect you to tell me, though.’

  ‘I said I would – but later.’

  ‘Very well.’ She pushed back her chair. ‘Your helpless mother knows when she isn’t wanted!’

  ‘Ha!’ Igor grinned. ‘Helpless …?’ He dabbed his mouth, then rose to his feet to gaze from the window. He was, truth known, looking forward to the interview and turned as the door opened.

  ‘Ah, Sutton,’ he murmured. ‘Might we have words, you and I?’

  ‘We’re to s
ay goodbye to Tatty.’ Drew offered his hand to Daisy at the stile. ‘Mother says she’s going to London, today. It’s a pity. She won’t have anyone to play with, in London.’

  ‘She’ll have her nanny,’ Daisy retorted. She did not like Tatiana Sutton. She was petted and spoiled and her nanny always there to spoil everyone’s fun.

  ‘Nannies don’t count,’ Drew sighed. ‘And Tatty’s only four.’

  ‘When I was four,’ Daisy countered airily, ‘I was in school. And I walked there, every day. I didn’t have a nanny to pick me up and carry me when I got tired!’

  ‘You had Keth.’

  ‘I know. I miss Keth. I wish he was here. I like Keth better than you! I like Bas better than you, an’ all, and you can go on your own to Denniston to say goodbye to Tatty Anna. I’d rather you did,’ she said pettishly.

  ‘But why, Daisy? I thought you liked her.’

  ‘Oh, I do, I suppose. But if you must know, I don’t want to go to Denniston House.’

  ‘But you said you liked Aunt Anna, too. I know she likes you.’

  ‘Of course I like her. But I don’t like him. I don’t like Mr Sutton. He glares at me as if I’ve no right to be there.’

  ‘Well, you’re my sister, so you have every right. Do come, Daiz? Be kind to little Tatty?’

  ‘We-e-ll – Tatty hasn’t got a brother, I suppose.’ It made her sad to think about that poor dead little baby. ‘All right, then. I’ll come.’

  She smiled brilliantly and all at once Drew was glad she was his sister. Daisy was so very, very pretty …

  ‘Words?’ Elliot Sutton hovered at the serving table, lifting silver lids, peering into warming dishes. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘It’s about my sister.’

  ‘Oh?’ Elliot filled a coffee cup, spooned kedgeree onto his plate, then seated himself at the table. ‘And what is the matter with her now?’

  Breakfast at Denniston House was an informal meal, with tea and coffee keeping warm on hotplates and dishes of eggs, bacon, kidneys or kedgeree for the taking. No servant was in attendance unless summoned; talk could be intimate or private, even, with no one there to listen and report back to the servants’ hall.